Kelly
Sitting at the formica counter, my reflection lit in the mirror behind it by the glowing bulbs that march in perfect formation around its edge, I'm supposed to touch up my face. Instead, I struggle to inhale. I don't even recognize myself. I adjust the hair of the person in the mirror with shaking fingers. Avoid looking at my gold hair, cut stark for drama, reddened eyes lined in deepest black.
Merv comes and goes and I'm alone. I wish I could stay that way. Dark thoughts, terrible thoughts plague me until I'm on the couch, bent forward, forehead on my knees.
Shadows of the things that happened to me scratch their claws on the corners of my mind. I shove out of my chair to pace between the sleek couch and the coffee table. Both black.
Why does everything have to be black?
My bitter laugh dies when I'm struck by a flashing memory of fingers twisting in my hair.
